


Dinner for Seven

by ultrapsychobrat



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-15
Updated: 2010-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-06 07:57:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultrapsychobrat/pseuds/ultrapsychobrat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe a little together time will help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinner for Seven

Sitting down to dinner with everyone was as rare as free time these days. Blake had kept them on a haphazard schedule of smash and grab attacks on Federation sites for what seemed like months, with no let up. Only a threatened full-scale mutiny by the entire crew had brought about this small respite from the fray.

Making the most of what little time they had, Vila had planned out an elaborate meal, with all the trimmings—no easy feat, what with Avon's and Cally's disinterest, Jenna's incompetence, and Blake's obsession that kept him planning for all the things he'd rather they were doing to the Federation. Only Gan showed any spark of enthusiasm—and, oddly enough, ORAC. What the obnoxious little computer found of interest in food was a mystery, but it had offered to assist in upgrading the food processing equipment to produce a wider array of items; evidently Ensor and his son had enjoyed quite a variety of foods.

"I think that's it, then." Vila appraised the lavish spread of different foods with a critical eye—this was no time for half-done or sloppily presented dishes. He moved one bowl a little further apart from the others, and gave a glass one last polish. The two small tables pushed together and covered with a swath of bright fabric from the wardrobe storeroom made a happy contrast to the functional but dull plastisteel that usually surrounded them. He stood back looking at Gan, who stood to one side, smiling beneficently. "So? What d'ya think? All right?"

Gan's smile broadened. "If it tastes as good as it looks, there won't be any complaints. Want me to go get everyone?"

"Sure, if you really think it's ready." Gan left and Vila turned to pour himself a glass of wine. Gulping it quickly, he realized he was nervous. What if everyone hated it? Maybe he should have asked for suggestions from the others. Too late now, anyway.

"Vila! This is lovely."

He turned worried eyes on Cally, the first to arrive. "You really think so?"

"Definitely. How did you do all this?" she asked, looking over the assortment of food. "I don't know what a lot of these things are. You'll have to tell me about them."

"Yeah, sure. Gan helped, y'know."

"As did I, if I might remind you," ORAC commented testily.

"I didn't know you enjoyed meal preparation, ORAC," Cally said with wicked gleam in her eye. "We'll certainly include you in our duty roster."

"What's that, Cally?" Jenna asked as she came in. "Oh, wow! Did you do this?"

"No. Vila, Gan, and ORAC fixed—"

"I did not 'fix' anything, merely provided suggestions," ORAC corrected. "Do be precise."

"What's going on?"

Blake, not too pleased with the interruption to his strategy planning, walked in, followed by a silent Avon, whose icy gaze swept over the room, its contents and occupants alike—neither to his taste, apparently.

"I just thought we could have a real meal together, for once, y' know, kinda like a family or somethin'. I mean, since we don't have t'be quite so much on guard." His voice wound down at the frown on Blake's face and the snide curl of Avon's lip. "Maybe not," he muttered and then downed the rest of his wine.

"Well, I think it's very thoughtful and generous of you, Vila," Cally's soothing words cut into the awkward silence. She pulled out a chair and sat down, looking up at the others expectantly.

Gan smiled at her and took the nearest seat. Reaching for one of the wine bottles ranged along the center of the tables, he poured a glass for Cally and himself. "Come on, everyone, sit, drink, eat. The harvest gods have blessed our household."

You could almost hear the sarcasm dripping from Avon's unspoken snipe, but he sat at one end of the table and poured a glass of wine from a different bottle, but, typically, offered none to anyone else. Blake reluctantly sat on Avon's right, across from Cally, and pulled out the chair next to him for Jenna.

Vila stood uneasily at the opposite end of the table. Everyone looked at him expectantly, but expecting what he didn't know. "A toast," he said, pouring himself another glass of wine, and tipping some into Jenna's glass. "Pour a glass of wine, Blake," he urged and waited while he did so. "Okay, here's to…to our household," he finished brightly. Only Gan and Cally raised their glasses. "Well, part of our household," he added and downed his wine. "Eat up, everyone. Eat up." He sat down and poured himself another glass, wondering how stupid this idea had really been.

"I'm hungry, if no one else is," Blake said heartily, his good nature coming through. "Pass the bowl of green stuff this way. What is it, anyway? Some kind of legume? I read about those in history class. Want some, Avon?" he offered and shrugged at Avon's answering glare, passing the bowl across the table to Cally.

With that, everyone relaxed, passing various dishes along and across the table, asking what things were and where they'd come from and what they were similar to or not until everyone's plate was full with an assortment of foods—everyone except Avon, that is. He sat watching and drinking his wine while the others ate.

"You're missing some very good food, Avon. Why don't you try something?"

"No, thank you, Cally. I prefer my food to look…familiar." He eyed the purple gelatinous substance in a nearby bowl with suspicion.

"Oh, go on, Avon, it isn't going to kill you," Blake urged.

"You don't know that—perhaps you're all in your last throes. I refuse to let Vila steal _Liberator_ that easily." He fixed Vila with a baleful stare.

"Steal _Liberator_!" Vila squawked, his laden fork halfway to his mouth, "Who's stealing _Liberator_?" He put his fork down. "Now, hold on, I didn't do this by myself, you know. Gan helped and ORAC made suggestions, and—"

"Don't give him the satisfaction," Jenna put in. "He's just winding you up."

"Or perhaps ORAC is," Avon added thoughtfully. When he had everyone's attention, he continued. "I don't suppose you considered the possibility that ORAC might be planning a coup. Get rid of all the humans and have this ship to itself to do with as it pleases."

"Don't be ridiculous. ORAC's just a computer, like you're always reminding us, and has to be programmed." Gan narrowed his eyes, looking at Avon suspiciously. "Since you're the one who knows the most about computers, and you're the only one who hasn't eaten anything, seems to me we'd be best off keeping a sharp watch on you."

"Here, here," Vila muttered.

Avon raised an eyebrow and smiled humorlessly. "Well, it seems to me that you thought of that a little too late to do you any good. Enjoy the remainder of your meal," he added cheerily as he exited the room, taking a full bottle of wine and ORAC with him.


End file.
